Ding. Ding. Ding.
The sound of my phone dinging has not stopped for days. Thoughts, prayers, and hope were all I was reading. At this point, I’m not sure if it’ll ever end.
Before last month, those dings brought only dopamine to my social-media influenced brain. I was never the type to feel confident enough about myself enough to post a selfie or some type of status update that no one cared about enough to read. From childhood I knew that I was what you could call ordinary. Boring. Stereotypical. I had nothing to really flaunt online.
Elise, however, was probably the most beautiful seven year old you’d ever see. Her dark brown eyes always glistened in the sun, her giggle so contagious that even the biggest child haters couldn’t ignore. I know, most parents feel this way about their own children, but Elise had something going for her. Something that a lot of people don’t have even as they grow older. Maybe it was just because I saw a confidence in her I could never see in myself.
Elise loved to talk, and some days that is all she would do. Neither strangers or family members were safe from her babbling. Her favorite things to talk about were her friends, what she did at school, and whatever television show she was hyper fixated on at the time. If she got tired of any of those topics, she would move on to whatever people would listen to. That’s just how my little Elise worked - talk, talk and talk some more.
I’m sure you’ve seen those accounts on TikTok and Instagram - parents run it but the main focus of them are the children. Some cater to moms, some dads, and a lot of them try to obtain the attention of other children. I wasn’t planning on creating an account solely dedicated to Elise, but I knew some videos of her talking online would gather some attention. Plus it would be a cute way to keep memories for myself while sharing them to other family members that Elise couldn’t visit often. Win-win, right?
Elise’s first video was uploaded about seven months ago, right on her seventh birthday. Her room was adorned with pink and yellow birthday decorations, a cute little happy birthday hat sitting on top of her brown pigtails. All you could hear on the video was her father and I singing the happy birthday song and Elise’s giggles, while visually ready to blow out her big “7” candle on her funfetti birthday cake.
Surprisingly enough, that video garnered a lot of attention on TikTok. With about 1500 comments, everyone was wishing my little Elise a happy birthday. From that point on, I had a feeling that Elise would get more attention, and I knew she would do it the best way she could - talking.
Grown adults have their own podcasts filled with nonsense, and God only knows what these people are trying to teach to children online these days. For Elise, her TikTok account was like her own little podcast. When she wanted to babble about whatever she felt so strongly about, I would set up my phone on a mini tripod right in front of her filming area, and I would just let her talk. After about two months, I dedicated an account solely to Elise. If anything, it made her audience grow.
The camera was like her best friend, only because I didn’t let her interact with anyone who followed her online. Yea, she had friends from school, but they always wanted to join in on her videos. I guess this fame and attention went to her head more than I thought it would, because she would come home from school telling me about the kids that would ask to come over to be on her account. She would always refuse, so one day I asked her why.
“It’s my account, mom. I want to be the star of it.”
A little drama queen, right? But I couldn’t blame her, and if I’m being totally honest, I didn’t want any of those kids on it either. Elise was the star of it, and the main reason for the account in the first place was memories of my own child, not some random kid she talked to once in class. Harsh maybe, but if they wanted to be online, they could talk to their parents about it.
Unfortunately, a lot of parents at her school did disagree with my parenting style. Some days I would receive random messages and links from parents I knew.
“Your type of parenting makes a pedophile’s job a lot easier with social media.”
“Don’t exploit your kid if you wouldn’t exploit yourself.”
“Using your kid as a cash cow? Very classy.”
These people can say all they want about the account, but to be fair, Elise has more fun with it than I ever could. Yea, we monetized the videos and they made quite a bit, but I know if I ever tried to get Elise to stop making them, I would’ve never heard the end of it.
But sometimes, there are things you have to do to keep your child safe. Unfortunately, about a month ago, I had that realization. I was just a moment too late.
The comments on Elise’s videos were almost always positive. People would send her videos to others, talk about how cute she is, and ask where they could buy outfits similar to hers. We were pretty lucky to not have any creepy comments or messages about her.
Ding. A new message in my inbox from John C. Probably another dad harping on my parenting. I put my phone back on the couch and continued on with my show.
Ding. Ding. I check the screen again.
John C sent a message. John C sent a photo.
This was a little more… abnormal. Most of the time, people didn’t send photos, and rarely did I get direct messages so back-to-back.
I half-swiped on the message, just to see the contents.
Your daughte
her pigtails. H
a small snip
What could this man possibly be saying about my daughter’s pigtails? Maybe he just wanted a tutorial on them. A lot of fathers say they enjoy accounts like Elise’s to learn what their daughters might like. I decided to fully open his message to see what he was talking about.
Your daughter has the most beautiful brown hair. I love
her pigtails. How much would I be able to pay to have
a small snip of one of them? :) 8:34
I would be willing to pay quite a bit, dear. Just let me know the
price point. <3 8:35
Out of all the messages I was expecting, that was not one of them. In disgust, I closed out of the message, too nervous to open whatever photo he sent. I freaked out a little bit and called Elise’s father in the living room. I’d never seen him so livid as he was then.
Chloe, we have to delete her account.
Delete her account? Is that not a little extreme? I mean, it’s just one message…
Maybe just one message, but God only knows how many freaky pedophiles have seen Elise’s content.
I’ll temporarily disable it. I’ll still get the messages but I can’t post content. Can we agree on that?
Drew’s face grew from anger to worry. I know he wants to completely delete the account, and I can’t blame him. He has always been against her having any social media anyway. This just validated his concerns.
Fine. Only for Elise, because she loves it. But give the content a break. See if this man contacts you again. If he does, we’re permanently deleting it. No ifs, ands or buts.
Despite me rolling my eyes, I knew he was right. Those parents that bashed me were all right. Pedophiles were everywhere now, and this made my baby a target for them.
Wait, Drew, come back. Before I disable it, he sent a picture. I’m too scared to look.
His reactions all happened so quickly. He grabbed my phone from my hand, swiped to see the message, and clicked the photo. That’s all he did before sprinting across the house, screaming Elise’s name.
Panicked and confused, I picked my phone up from the floor where he dropped it. At that moment, I felt like I was going to throw up.
The photo was easy to read. Too easy. I would recognize that bedroom window anywhere. The pink curtains, the princess lamp, and the girl with the brown pigtails standing opposite of the glass, unaware of who was watching her. I could tell from the window latch that it was unlocked and slightly open to let in a cool breeze. The worst part was the reflection - a man with a phone in his right hand, and a pair of scissors in his left.
Ding. Another message from John C.
Even more beautiful in person. So silky smooth. How
would $100 work for you? ;)